


The Water Lily's Dance

by OneHitWondersAnonymous



Category: The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild
Genre: Canon Compliant, Falling In Love, First Kiss, Fluff, Happy Ending, It follows some canon plot points anyway, Light Angst, M/M, Pining, Pining Prince Sidon, Selectively Mute Link (Legend of Zelda)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-23
Updated: 2020-04-23
Packaged: 2021-02-23 09:42:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,871
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23809588
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OneHitWondersAnonymous/pseuds/OneHitWondersAnonymous
Summary: It isn’t until the sun melts to tuscan rust and dyes even their purest silvers gold that Link approaches on the horizon, looking waterlogged and a little worse for wear, but alive. His shoulders hang heavy but his eyes are alight in blue fire, and Sidon feels a brilliant water lily blossom in his chest at the sight, too much to bear.-A chronicle of Sidon's thoughts as he compares Link to the gods, emotions left unnamed—the gentle, easy growth of love between the chaos.
Relationships: Link/Prince Sidon
Comments: 28
Kudos: 275





	The Water Lily's Dance

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mysterioustrumpet](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mysterioustrumpet/gifts).



> Hello, and welcome to my first sidlink fic, courtesy of a commission from a dear friend! A couple words:
> 
> \- I haven't used this account in forever, jeez. It is incredible to see how much I've grown over the years. 
> 
> \- When I first wrote this, I just sort of assumed that Zora can't cry biologically because why would a fish need to cry?? It turns out they can in canon, but I didn't want to change it because I like the drama of it, so just pretend they can't, haha. 
> 
> \- Essential listening, which I had on repeat writing at least some of this: **[Sleeping At Last - Lake](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dN99NmZJhCQ)**
> 
> Please enjoy!

The Zora are cheering. It’s all that Sidon can hear, and he can’t help but lose himself in the relief, in the joy, and laugh with them. They dance on every inch of the Domain, not one step missed. He’s sure he’s swung at least three acquaintances in circles, talked enough his throat will be hoarse in the morning. He’s not sure when his father joins in, but the low rumble of his laughter sets a calming frequency about them all, sobering them from the high of victory. Even as their energy wanes, the true victor has yet to join them.

Sidon looks to the West, spots the sun in all her vibrance, then to the South. Just a tick to the right, she stands, proud, vigilant, watchful, and finally, at peace. Vah Ruta has been freed of her curse, and now readies her power to send Ganon to his knees. She is beautiful like this, when not in a rampage, no longer a direct threat they need to act upon. Sidon is so, _so_ thankful that she’s been returned to her former glory. He expresses his thanks with even more dancing. 

It isn’t until the sun melts to tuscan rust and dyes even their purest silvers gold that Link approaches on the horizon, looking waterlogged and a little worse for wear, but alive. His shoulders hang heavy but his eyes are alight in blue fire, and Sidon feels a brilliant water lily blossom in his chest at the sight, too much to bear. He rushes forward, forgets himself and his manners. It’s clear that Link does not expect this, as he tenses and stands up straighter, pausing in his tracks. But Sidon has no time to dwell on it, because his savior approaches, and it would be nothing short of rude not to welcome him back from his victory with….

Sidon slows down. He approaches Link at a steadily slower pace, and his smile wavers, because he can’t think of a single thing he could do right now to show his gratitude properly. Not to the degree with which he feels it, this light that’s ready to burst from him at any second. No, there’s nothing appropriate at all, and he comes to a stop directly in front of Link with that thought lingering in his mind. But then Link stares up at him with those breathtaking ocean eyes and Sidon’s heart leaps, and suddenly, he can’t remember what it feels like to frown. His cheeks are sore, and he laughs, the sound bubbling from him in great waves he cannot control even if he tried. Then, natural as breathing, Sidon drops to one knee. 

Link’s eyes widen, and his skin is mottled with the fresh blooms of cherry trees. It races from his cheeks to his neck and down below his collar, and it’s a gorgeous sight, eclipsed only by how brightly his eyes glow. But Sidon has no time to think too deeply about how that makes him feel, because instead he is reaching with both his eager hands to take Link’s own.

The instant he touches them, he feels Link flinch. It’s enough to remind him to be gentler, a little kinder, and he loosens his hold just slightly, cradling Link’s hands within his as though a precious treasure. He can see from here that there are odd scorch marks across his knuckles, and the faint hints of scarring and crusted blood, but they look so slender and lithe surrounded by his own mountainous claws that they look downright dainty anyway. Sidon looks up, realizing he’s stared at his hands for far too long, just to meet Link’s confused, hawkish stare. He laughs again, then squeezes his thumbs over the narrow ridges of Link’s knuckles. The tenseness in his face relaxes. 

“I’m afraid I have no words for the gratitude I feel toward you,” Sidon says, and it shocks him how softly his voice comes out. “You are truly amazing. We are in your debt, Champion Link. Thank you.” Link blinks down at him, and then he breaks, a tiny quirk of his lips paired with half-lidded, softened eyes. He nods slowly, the smile growing, and the water lily breaks free of its stem and spins far, far away from his grasp, alive in the center of a pool all its own. This time, when Sidon squeezes his hands, Link squeezes back. 

It is only the cry of his people that could tear him from this, and sure enough it is their noisy applause that forces him to look away from the treasure in his hands and instead back to the celebration. Sidon chuckles and hops to his feet, and finally, reluctantly, drops Link’s hands. They fall to his sides, and only now can Sidon see how truly exhausted Link is, that he can’t even bring himself to speak. 

“We’re preparing a feast! We would be honored if you would attend,” he says, and he can feel his fins twitching excitedly, so activated by all this commotion they couldn’t stand to be left out. He watches Link’s eyes glance at his tail fin, and he’s a little embarrassed to admit it, but he’s not sure he could stop its jumping if he tried. Link must understand, somewhat, because his smirk goes a bit sly before he shakes his head. 

‘Tired,’ he signs, barely legible in the sluggish twists of his hands. ‘I’ll come back tomorrow.’

“O-oh, of course! I can only imagine. But, you don’t need our healers to take a look at you first..?” Sidon asks, a genuine attempt to segue from the embarrassment of subtle rejection. Link shakes his head, and Sidon supposes that is good, but it’s hard to believe that he’s fully alright when he just went through what must have been a legendary battle. Link is a grown man, capable of taking care of himself, but…

Sidon huffs, amused at how stubborn he proves. Every day is something new to learn about him. Sidon can’t wait for the next one, but he must, so he bites his tongue and smiles politely. “The Domain will be here then, thanks to you.”

Link’s smile returns as a shadow, but there nonetheless, and Sidon waits until he’s turned away and waving over his back to return to his people. They fuss and fret together, confused without context, and he explains. They of course have no qualms, and go right back to dancing and feasting and celebrating, but the rest of the evening Sidon can’t help but feel his eyes wander to the humble campsite just outside the Domain that he knows is occupied tonight. In a test of his strength as a Zora and a prince, he must convince himself to leave Link alone, no matter how much he wants to run to him and kiss his hands with gratitude. 

It would prove to be a test he would subject himself to for many years beyond this one. His lily is no longer tied to the river bank nor the soft soil beneath it, after all; it is a free entity, left to circle and twirl in place by the whims of Link’s unshakable, untamable heart. And Hylia, all gods above, who would Sidon think he is to consider otherwise? The next morning, he wakes to the sound of Hylian feet on carved crystal. 

Sidon smiles before he opens his eyes. He has been rewarded for his patience with a promised return, come with the sunrise! He stretches the morning ache from his bones as he recalls the roughness of Link’s palms, and considers when he might touch Link’s hands again. Between the bed chambers and the throne room, he prays for it, just a whisper in his mind which begs to bellow instead.

* * *

The more time that passes, the more curious that Sidon becomes about the Champion. He feels like he knows so little about him, but he yearns for more, though he doesn’t know why. Perhaps it’s in the blue of Link’s eyes, the peculiar, otherworldly spark in them that demands to be explored. Or his flaxen hair, the temptation to touch it more than the brief brushings that occurred as he helped vanquish the beast in Vah Ruta. It was so soft then, a ticklish whisper against his back between the rush of water at his sides. Too preoccupied to pay it mind, but just enough that the memory is a ghost when he swims.

Unfortunately, there is nothing that Sidon can do which would beckon Link back to the Domain. He is radically nomadic, which would make it near impossible to send a message requesting his company. Sidon is disappointed whenever he thinks about it—there is so much he doesn’t know, and the world is so vast; surely there are other places more fascinating than here! Sidon wonders nonetheless, and he lets his imagination run free. The lily blossom is floating in his chest, disturbed by each thought so that it ruffles in the waves. Its petals open one by one, something unfamiliar and exhilarating, and he asks Hylia for a chance to get to know the one who planted its seed.

It thus shocks and delights him when one ordinary afternoon, the shrine at the heart of the Domain glows. It is only the second time he has seen it do this, the first being when Link first arrived and unlocked its doors. It is brilliant in its blues, a spectacle to be sure, even though Sidon is several rooms away. It permeates the walls unlike anything Sidon has seen before, and he is thoroughly enchanted before he sees the royal guards rush past his archway, weapons in hand. Ah, right.

Sidon follows the guards to the shrine, snatching his spear along the way, and they wait as the goddess’s blue fades and reveals the Champion in all his glory, fiddling with a device Sidon has yet to inspect, another mystery which begs to be solved. Sidon tucks it away for later, and calls off the guards in haste. 

“Champion Link!” Sidon exclaims, throwing his arms out and beaming at him. “Welcome back!”

‘Link is fine,’ he says back, with a returned amused smile which puts a tingle in his chest.

“Of course,” he amends, and then he stands straighter, remembering his manners. “Shall I get King Dorephan?” 

Link shakes his head, then says, ‘Just visiting.’

It’s incredible how much one sentence can lift Sidon above the clouds. There is a rush which goes through him, euphoric and light as air, and he restrains a gleeful giggle in favor of bending down to take Link’s hand. Just as before, he looks slightly confused, but he no longer flinches when Sidon encapsulates his hand within his own, dwarfing it. Link’s hand is warmer than his, he notes. That, or the touch is so satisfying that it sends heat to their point of contact on its own.

“I’m so grateful for your return,” he explains, and his face hurts from how wide he’s smiling, but Sidon could never help it! He’s wished for this chance so many times! Link looks puzzled in the wake of Sidon’s forward attitude, but he refuses to hold back, this time. No longer are they bound by business, the way they were when freeing Vah Ruta of her curse. A new door has been opened, one of friendship, and Sidon intends to grasp it with fervor. 

‘Thanks,’ Link says one-handed, and then he pulls away from Sidon’s hold to speak, and it’s a disappointing compromise. ‘You got anything to eat?’

Sidon laughs, because Link has such a funny way of speaking, such an odd lack of manners, and it is so different from all that he’s ever known. But it’s refreshing, and Sidon reaches out with his palm up. “I’m sure there’s something we can offer you. Please, come with me,” he asks, practically begs, and with his breath held in anticipation, Link lies his hand over Sidon’s. 

It is the first time he has given his hand voluntarily. It is hesitant, but willing, and it is all Sidon could have possibly dreamed of. 

There is electricity between their fingers as they curl around each other. Sidon leads him to lunch, and they pass the time with idle chatter. He hears a whole library of stories, triumphs over great beasts far from here, in a world Sidon has never known and asks many questions about. In turn, he learns what Link cannot remember, fills in the blanks where he can, and they bond quietly into the night. 

When Link goes, Sidon considers that perhaps this visit has served as a break from the overwhelming burden Link carries. He sleeps well that night, eased with the hope that some part of Link knows the water lily’s dance, too.

* * *

Weeks later, Sidon blinks slowly awake, but there is no sun waiting for him. In fact, there’s not even a hint of it on the horizon. It is dark as can be, nothing to observe but the crickets and wildlife calling from the distance. It must be the very middle of the night, close to the witching hour. Still, he stirs.

His pool has the half-moon printed over it like a specter, rippling with every tiny movement he dares to make in the water. He watches the rumbling imprint a bit longer as his mind returns to him, but that attention is then turned to the wall to his left, which slowly begins to glow. 

His sleep-addled brain needs a moment to understand, but then it hits him: the shrine. His room is right beside it. 

That ethereal blue color is one only the gods could make, and it is increasing exponentially. He leaps from his pool, ignoring the perturbed splashing of its water, and races out the door. 

The still air is replaced with the sound of a thousand rainfalls, a sheet of water hissing magic at him as he bolts. It grows so loud it starts to hurt his head, then leaves as abruptly as it came. Sidon is out of breath when he reaches the entrance to the shrine’s holding room, and he pauses only a moment before taking the steps into its depths two at a time. Now that the glow has dissipated, it’s difficult to see anything at all, but he can see Link’s shadowy figure at the mouth of the shrine well enough.

“It’s a bit late for a visit, don’t you think?” Sidon says, dropping all pretense half because he’s still asleep and half because it is Link, who never cares for facades much. 

(He’s come to visit several times since Vah Ruta’s freeing, and each time has been a delight, a new opportunity for Sidon to learn as many things as possible. Sidon is sure his questions are annoying by now, but Link has never complained, so he persists.)

There is something odd in the air though that Sidon cannot place, a chill which scratches the back of his neck as he steps closer to Link’s hooded silhouette. There’s no one in the world who can use these shrines like Link can, so it cannot possibly be anybody else, but there’s something _wrong_ that Sidon cannot place. He stops just in front of him and frowns.

“Are you alright?” he asks, and it must release a flood gate within Link, because as soon as he says it, Link falls forward right into him. He wraps his arms around Sidon’s middle, and groans.

“A-are you hurt?” Sidon stutters, unsure where to put his arms and instead leaving them dangling in the air uselessly. Then there is a tickle on his stomach, and a glance down shows Link is shaking his head. The movement incidentally causes him to nuzzle closer to the soft, vulnerable skin on Sidon’s belly, which makes him shiver. It’s strange, but in the same way that Link is strange—a heavenly sort of unusual. It eases some of Sidon’s worrying, but not all. 

“Link,” he murmurs, something difficult to do when the walls echo so loudly here, “something must be wrong.”

Link only shakes his head more and squeezes his arms around Sidon’s sides tighter, and he sighs. This was not what he was expecting to find at all, though he supposes it’s much better than finding Link beaten and bloodied, among many other more terrible possibilities. 

Sidon carefully pulls Link’s arms away from him, though he hates to do it, and sinks to his knees, a bit closer to eye level. It occurs to him now that he has not an ounce of jewelry or cloth on him, and though it’s not necessary to wear it, he feels extraordinarily naked for a moment. He clears his throat awkwardly, then speaks again: “Link, why have you come here in the middle of the night, of all times?” 

It’s clear that Link doesn’t want to answer honestly, but also can’t think of a good excuse to outweigh the truth. He huffs, then drops his hands to his sides, away from Sidon’s gentle touches. ‘Tired,’ he says. ‘Always tired.’ The bags beneath his eyes are bruised, inflamed and clearly visible in the moonlight, an alibi. 

“I know,” Sidon says, gravely. “Your burden is inconceivable to me.” Link pouts, and Sidon wonders if maybe he’s read him wrong, but then his hands are darting all over the place. They start and stop all different directions, and he has to laugh quietly and grasp Link’s flailing wrists between his thumbs and pointer fingers to stop him. “I can’t understand you!” he says, and he swears he can feel Link’s shoulders fall a bit at his smile, like he’s releasing tension he didn’t know he had. The thought has Sidon’s water lily spiraling, but he can’t focus on that now. His dear friend needs him.

‘I haven’t slept well in weeks,’ Link admits, slowly, as though his words are coming to him one by one. ‘Always on guard. I thought maybe…’

Sidon feels something like hope mounting in his chest, glowing brighter than a shrine ever could, but he forces himself to remain nonchalant as he waits for Link to finish his thought. He nods, an attempt to show he’s listening. 

‘Maybe with someone nearby that I trusted, I would sleep better.’ 

“Oh!” Sidon exclaims, glad to hear it’s something he can reasonably remedy. “Well I’m certain there’s room for you at the inn,” he offers warmly, attempting to keep some of his composure at least, though just the suggestion has him grinning. Link rarely stays within the palace walls.

But Link shakes his head, and insists, ‘Not close enough. Feel safer with you in the room.’

Now, Sidon is of two distinct minds. The first is overjoyed. Link wants to spend time with him! He trusts him! This Sidon is over the moon! The second knows that it is extremely unbecoming of a prince to invite someone to his bed chambers, _especially_ unmarried. That Sidon knows he should refuse the request, if he wants to honor Zora tradition and, most likely, his father’s wishes. 

But he can’t very well ask permission when it’s so late, can he? His father is surely sleeping, and he’d hate to wake him. And really, what prince is willing to turn away a weary soul, especially a friend? It would be un-prince-like _not_ to offer him safe sleeping arrangements. 

Though blood runs hot in his veins and roars like a lynel in his head, Sidon manages to contain his smile to something he hopes conveys just a fraction of his fondness. “There’s a lounge beside my pool, if you’d like to stay,” he says, and though he feels his body heat up at just the suggestion of that proximity, Link only yawns, rubs his eyes, and nods in agreement. It’s a typical display of his utter immunity to proper social practices, and the compulsion to follow them. Sidon can’t help but breathe a little laugh at him; forever strange, forever heavenly. 

He leads Link to his bed chambers on ginger feet, and they ease into rest so naturally beside each other that it feels surreal. The current below his water lily shifts that evening, into something less torrential and unpredictable, and his father is only fractionally angry with him the next day.

* * *

There is a meadow in a hidden corner of the wilderness surrounding the Domain that Sidon has known since he was small. Mipha took him here first, introduced him to the flowers and the grass and the merits of dry land. Though he knows he needs more water than this to live healthfully, he cannot help but desire for more moments like these, in which he brings landlocked company to his piece of the world untouched.

Link is across from him, staring out over the distant cliffside and into the horizon, where the mountains spike the sky and spear through low-hanging clouds. His shoulders have fallen, and the tension in his body has melted away so that he simply exists. His hair is rustled by the wind, and Sidon itches to run his claws over Link’s scalp, to hear him hum happily under his touch as he’s done three times before. He can count each instance because they are like brands upon his memories, permanent marks that soothe like aloe when his thoughts go dark and he needs something sweet to pull him to the surface. 

At some point, his bank of happy memories shifted from the fuzzy outlines of Mipha to the crystal vibrance of Link. He asks forgiveness to her statue once he realizes this, but he gets the feeling that she doesn’t mind at all, may even find it amusing, and his heart is put at-ease. 

Sidon is pulled from his wandering thoughts when he feels a tap on his crossed leg, and Link begins to sign to him with a gentle slowness, his hands like instruments playing their own song into the wind. ‘I lost you,’ he says, a playful smile on his lips, and Sidon huffs, his tail fin twitching.

“You’ve caught me, dear friend,” he says, fine to admit it to him. “I was thinking of you.”

Link’s skin stains red, tulip petals over peach skin. Sidon likes to tease him, because the phenomenon of his visibly flushed skin is amusing.

(Eventually, Link will learn that when Zora are caught off guard, their fins flare out. He has thus far been able to tuck them in his lap and hide it, but they still twitch involuntarily. Only then will they be on equal footing, and it’s just a matter of time.)

‘You’re weird,’ Link signs, but his shoulders shake with subdued laughter, and Sidon’s smile wanes to something softer, fonder. 

They breathe in comfortable silence for a while after that, in which Sidon studies the flowers in mid-bloom, the grass still not quite tall enough to touch the sky, the little things still on their way to greatness. He thinks of his lily released, its unfurled beauty, laid out beside him in a bed of wildflowers. It’s not long before the tranquility of the moment tempts his eyes to shut, his body to fall to rest. 

Another nudge has him stirring, and Link is smirking at him. ‘Nap time, old man?’ he asks, and Sidon scoffs.

“I’ll have you know I’m plenty young for a Zora!” he contests with false irritation, but he laughs as he says it. Link nudges him again, more kindness, and his chest warms in the sunlight. 

They return to the Domain shortly after that. Link leans in close as he says goodbye, as though he’s searching for Sidon’s voice, and he reluctantly disappears in goddess blue, his eyes as bright as Her divinity.

* * *

‘Let’s go for a swim,’ Link suggests, one mid-summer visit, and Sidon’s heartbeat skips.

The hot sun admittedly has his skin feeling dry and tight, and he would benefit from a more thorough soaking. And aside from that, he loves when Link wants to share the water with him. It’s as though part of his Zora heart opens up, revealing itself to an outsider, his whole self. So he tries to contain the happy flexing of his fins, and graciously accepts the offer.

The water is stained an indigo blue, with the refracted light of the crystal palace distorting its natural hue. They swim directly below it, because they will have less visitors, and Sidon selfishly wants Link to himself. There are ledges above water too, where Link can stay when he gets tired. It’s the ideal place for mutual relaxation, and already, Sidon feels weight slip from his shoulders with the tossing of the waves over his back.

Sidon takes several dives alone, inhaling the fresh water with a deep breath far below the surface, and he sighs, releasing the surface air from his lungs to regulate his oxygen intake. His eyesight adjusts to the dark quickly, and he can make out the schools of fish milling about near the bedrock. Sidon smiles as he recalls the first time he tried to fish for Link without warning, and Link was comically taken aback by the mouthful of flipping bass between his teeth when he resurfaced. He wonders if Link wants a fresh catch for dinner, but decides to wait until he asks before snatching fish left and right. He fans his fins, stretching the muscles in his extremities, and launches himself toward the sky with a powerful upward stroke.

When he breaches the surface, he blinks the water from his eyes, waiting for the world around him to fade back to its warmer tones. Link is smiling at him from the ledge when his eyesight returns, and Sidon allows his tail fin to thrash excitedly, half hidden beneath the water and therefore slightly less embarrassing.

“It’s cold, but quite refreshing for the weather!” Sidon reports gleefully, and Link hums at him. His shoulders have stained pink in the high sun’s rays, and Sidon yearns to touch them, to feel the heat as it’s translated from sky to skin. He daydreams of the tickle of his near-invisible hair, the subtle fuzz of a fresh peach that Sidon belatedly realized grows on bodies, too. Link’s is translucent, even more so in summer, so it’s a pleasant surprise to his fingertips when they manage to brush one another, bare skin to skin. 

A splash hits his face and he blinks rapidly through it to find Link smirking at him, teasing him without a word. Sidon gasps, affronted, but it’s a false reaction; inside his heart is threatening to beat from his chest, pumping red-hot blood into his veins twice as fast. He knows the game that Link is initiating, looking at him like that, and it drives his emotions wild every time. With a grin that he can’t bring himself to sully with mischief, he grabs Link’s dangling ankle, and drags him into the water.

Link yelps before he dunks under the trembling surf, but he returns momentarily, laughing enough that the hints of giggles are forcing their way through his silence as he clings to Sidon’s arm. His fingers splay against Sidon’s skin, grasping him tightly, and Sidon has rarely felt so alive as he does right now. Link lets go and Sidon mourns, but he pulls himself together, and they swim quiet, lazy circles around each other. 

Sidon loses himself in the comfort of the moment, resting on his back atop the waves as he soaks in the water surrounding him. He has no idea how much time has passed when he feels that hand return to his arm, and he stops his absent drifting to catch diamond eyes, sparkling with the first crickets of twilight.

He says nothing, as his hands are fully occupied, but his eyes glint with intent. “Yes?” Sidon breathes, for he doesn’t feel it’s safe to speak any louder, and then, as though it is natural, Link brushes one arm across Sidon’s collar to latch on his opposing shoulder, and pulls himself onto Sidon’s chest. 

Sidon cannot breathe. Link sighs quietly, shuts his eyes like he’s preparing for a nap, and he nuzzles his face into the soft skin of Sidon’s chest. The movement hardly disturbs the water, because Link is so very small, and Sidon’s body serves as a plentiful raft over the surface. 

He struggles to decide where to place his arms, having been caught completely off guard and without a clue as to what Link wants. His fins flare wildly, and he feels the tail behind his head quiver, just as uncertain what to do as Sidon is. Link does not stir, but he smiles just enough that Sidon can see from this angle, and affection takes shape as the water lily once more. It blossoms like an explosion, soft pink pastels that hug his heart so warmly, and he hums to himself, content. He chooses to run one hand down Link’s exposed back, up and down his spine, and the way Link shivers and basically purrs has him threatening to shudder too. 

It is so deeply intimate, and he’s not even sure that Link understands it. His fins twitch, nervous and overwhelmed, but the water conceals his panicking. They lie like this until the sun is only a sienna drop in the sky turned deep purple and blue, when the lanterns are lit and the natural minerals around them start to glow. When Sidon starts to tire, he maneuvers them back to the ledge. 

“I think it’s time for real rest, dear one,” he murmurs in Link’s ear, and he groans, opposed to moving. And though the sound has Sidon shivering and begging himself to stay, he doesn’t dare give way to temptation. He gives Link’s shoulder a light tap _—soft, cooling peachskin—_ and he finally gives up his clinging and crawls onto the ledge.

Once on stable ground, Link stands, extending a hand for Sidon to take. Though he towers over him at full height and doesn’t need the help, Sidon rests his hand in Link’s hold anyway, if only as an excuse to touch him as he rises. 

They return to Sidon’s bed chambers, where Link has snuck in countless times, and prepare for sleep. (It has reached the point that Sidon doesn’t bother to worry about Father finding out, because he’s certain he already knows and has already excused him or given up on scolding him.) The energy caught in his veins, what has jumped from Link’s chest to his own under glowing luminous stone just hours prior, refuses to settle. He tosses and turns in his pool, struggling to relax, and it’s only when his gaze falls upon the moon painted on Link’s alabaster cheek that he feels that energy wane. Link’s gentle breaths remind him that he has time, that there is no rush to these feelings overwhelming him now, and that he needn’t be afraid. Only then does he begin to dream, and his dreams mimic real life so closely, he barely realizes he’s asleep.

* * *

The sky is such a wondrous blue that Sidon can’t stop commenting on it. It is an afternoon dipped in honey, hot enough to heat the metal on Sidon’s body and tan Link’s skin, but comfortable when complemented by the cool waters below the palace. He’s sure he’s talked of the weather enough times Link would be within his rights to smite him here and now, but he doesn’t. Instead his mouth twitches in a little involuntary grin that he only makes when he’s trying not to smile, but wants to very much. He is content to sit at the riverside while Sidon treads water, and it is the stuff of dreams. 

But there is something different in Link’s smiles today, something that usually means he’s struggling with problems he doesn’t want Sidon to hear about, and it’s disappointing. They have reached a point with one another that they share almost too much, and though Sidon is grateful to have gained a window to Link’s heart, he finds in moments like this that it is still not enough for his selfish desire for closeness. He wants to be closer, so close he cannot stand it, but he knows better than to try pushing Link into a corner he doesn’t desire himself. Perhaps one day he’ll get there, but it will have to be on Link’s terms, and he’s relatively fine with that. 

Today, though…

“Something is on your mind,” Sidon says, unwilling to let that waver in Link’s smile go, and it’s easy to tell that Link is displeased at getting caught. His expression darkens and he exhales roughly, ghosting a current into his hair so that it twitches to life. 

‘That obvious?’ he asks, and Sidon nods solemnly. 

“I’m afraid we’ve spent enough time together that you can no longer hide everything from me.” Link grunts, a subtle agreement, and then sighs. He falls on his back against the blanket he has spread out over the grass and exhales slow, letting his limbs fall boneless at his sides. Sidon takes this as his cue to join him; he leaps from the water, shaking sparkling droplets from his skin, and drops to the grass to fall parallel beside him. 

Sidon is a touch too shy to look Link in the eyes at such close range, and chooses to study the clouds instead. “I am always willing to listen to your troubles, dear friend,” he says, and Link grunts again.

There is a rustling sound as Link sits back up, and Sidon watches, waiting for a signal that he’s ready to open up—there’s no guarantee it will come, but he can hope for the best. Link has his eyes near-crossed, and a flush like cherries zips across his skin that Sidon has no explanation for. ‘I want to tell you something,’ Link says, and Sidon nods from his place in the grass. 

“Anything at all!” he affirms, shooting him a grin that he’s sure looks goofy from this angle, and from the aborted snort in Link’s throat, it must. Link smiles, the soft, genuine one he saves for the times they are all alone, and Sidon’s heart is aflutter. But that smile is quickly snuffed out by whatever is haunting him, and then he is back to a downcast grimace that constricts Sidon’s heart a different way, a painful way. 

‘I’m going to fight Ganon soon,’ Link says, mulling over each word with the fluidity of deliberately slow signs. And he is so beautiful here, so so beautiful, but something is wrong, so Sidon nods, but he waits in silence. 

‘I don’t know how it will go.’

Sidon is so overcome by the dread which bursts in his stomach that he sits up too fast, and stars dance behind his eyes as he waits for equilibrium to take its course. But it is too slow, much too slow, and Sidon reaches out to grasp Link’s hand before he can think twice about it. “But you _will_ succeed,” Sidon insists, and he hates that there is a twinge of fear putting a wobble to his voice, but he cannot help it. Not when Link has such a heartbreaking expression on his face which suggests that maybe he is less convinced than Sidon is. 

Link is indestructible. He may be struck down, bruised, cut, and all manner of injury in between, but he always gets back up, always returns to the Domain, to Sidon’s eager arms. He-

 _I know,_ Link’s eyes say, and there’s an impossibly sad smile on his face, too much for Sidon’s weak heart to bear, _but just in case I don’t._

“Link, you are the most stubborn, terrible Hylian I’ve ever met,” Sidon insists, and Link laughs with quivering shoulders, dislodging his hands from the hold Sidon has on them. “I have no doubt,” he says, then stops, startled by the way his voice cracks halfway through. He clears his throat, and shakes Link’s arms in his tightened grip. He tries again, his eyes as serious as he can make them. “I have no doubt that you will defeat him.”

“Sidon,” Link says, and Sidon gasps. 

Sidon was never sure what to expect, when this moment might come to pass. He had spent an embarrassing amount of time simply floating on his back in his bed chambers, wondering at what frequency Link’s voice vibrated, how deep or high or hoarse or clear it might be. It was not an unusual thought to have, surely, but maybe what made it unusual was just how close to the stars he felt when he considered the possibilities—when he dreamt of this very thing, in which Link’s hands sit firmly planted in his palms, and he speaks aloud. 

It is gravelly with disuse, but it vibrates so sweetly, and _oh,_ Sidon could drown in it. He would sacrifice every part of him but his hearing, if it meant he could listen to that raspy, breathy voice form the syllables of his name again. 

His heart stops, and his water lily freezes. It is suspended in a state of shock, of euphoria he cannot process, because the look on Link’s face means that he’s surely about to tarnish this honey-warm day, and Sidon can hardly bear it. Not when he’s soared so high he cannot see the ground, and a fall will kill him swiftly-

“I… I would like to court you,” Link whispers, and every single note of his voice is recorded in Sidon’s brain so that he can repeat it over, and over, and-

 _“Oh,”_ Sidon breathes, because what Link said has just now registered. He would like to court him. 

_Court_ him. 

It can mean nothing else. The goddess’s blue could not shine brighter in Link’s eyes the way it does right now, as he stares with conviction into Sidon’s, which are blinking far too fast, because Link is saying this, _aloud,_ because he fears-

“Link,” Sidon croaks, his lips and hands trembling as the euphoria finally crashes to agony. The beautiful sun above dapples them with the shade of tiny leaves hung from the trees surrounding them, and Sidon curses it, curses that he spent so long praising such a beautiful day when it might lead to _this:_ the admittance that Link must unleash all the things he wishes to say for fear he may not have the chance to say them. For fear of death.

He suggests courtship as though he would regret to leave the wish unspoken, should the worst come to pass. Sidon is unfathomably grateful for the offer, but so pained to consider Link’s threatened mortality in a way they can no longer ignore under the shade of trees, in indigo waters, fields of secret half-grown grass.

“Why have you told me this? Why now?” Sidon asks, but he knows, and Link knows that he knows.

And Zora cannot cry, not really. But maybe if he could, Sidon might show Link that to tell him this now is so overwhelmingly painful that he cannot express his feelings in a way quantifiable, that only his tear ducts might know how to react. He squeezes Link’s hands, tight enough to ache, and brings his forehead to Link’s with his eyes shut, and he whispers back, “Alright, dear one.”

They stay that way for a long while. Long enough that the sun mourns with them, falling below the horizon to weep the way Sidon cannot, and when he opens his eyes, they are shrouded in the fog of twilight, painted blue. Even in the dark, Link’s eyes glow, but as he tears himself away, Sidon realizes that his face is tainted by twin trails of the sorrow Sidon cannot shed. 

He releases Link’s hands to cup his face, running his thumbs over top the apples of his cheeks to clear the tears from them, to feel the warmth of his skin under his own. Link does not sob, nor does he tremble, but he weeps, and Sidon hopes he knows he is not alone. 

“Come back to me,” Sidon commands, massaging his claws gently against Link’s scalp so that he quietly sighs, and he nods into his hands. And it has to be enough, because Sidon is out of options, and no longer is he a prince, but an ordinary Zora with nothing to his name but the water lily in his chest, and the treasure in his hands. “Come back," Sidon says, and he begs that it’s enough. 

* * *

Sidon has never liked waiting. And he has never particularly liked this dock either, the crystal one just above the waterfalls where Vah Ruta had rampaged not long ago. But there’s a certain poetry to standing here, watching Hyrule castle in the twilight, and waiting. 

He has stood here before, waited before. And the last time, his sister never returned. Fear strikes his gut in measured, even strokes, as though his heartbeat acts as the pressure behind the pickaxe. It drives itself between ribs, right into his chest, bit by bit by bit.

He struggles to breathe, like this. His water lily threatens to wilt, and he begs it not to, holds it carefully in his hands so that it does not sink into the treacherous waters below. But even his hands cannot protect against what fate and Hylia decide. He shifts in place, forces himself to breathe slower, waits.

Then, a breakthrough: illumination. It starts small, at the top of the castle’s tallest tower, and Sidon gasps as it grows, slowly overwhelming the castle walls until he can no longer look ahead. He averts his gaze but watches from the corner of his eye as the light explodes, and a sound like the magical rainfall of the shrines begins to shake in the air. It is like the shimmering of diamonds, the blessing of a goddess as it touches the soul. It encompasses every inch of the castle, and then it zips back to center, in a flash. 

There is a shockwave after that which makes no sound, but produces a great immaculate sphere that then breaks into rings like the ripple of raindrops in a puddle. The wave travels out in all directions, and as the pure light passes through Sidon too, it feels like all the stress is expelled from his body, like a refreshing nap in a cool breeze. A low hum buzzes in his head, the lullaby of magic that rejuvenates all life. For a moment, he sees nothing but white, and wonders if he’s somehow blind. But then it disappears slowly, and he is left with not a thing out of place, except for- 

Sidon startles looking at the castle—the malicious spikes which had protruded from the castle for almost as long as he could remember are gone. Now all that remains are the broken pieces of the castle left to disintegrate, and the scatterings of old towns which had been abandoned generations ago. 

“This means-” Sidon starts, but he has no need to finish. The Domain erupts into cheers and delighted cries below, and Sidon feels a smile slowly stretch across his own face. 

The tyranny of Ganon is over. Link has fought him, and he has _won,_ and-

He has some explaining to do, for leaving Sidon so worried and restless! 

He runs quickly to his people to join in their celebrating, and he can feel his sister with them more potently than ever before. They announce a feast, and all the Zora rush away to prepare as quickly as possible, reaching for their instruments and best clothing and recipes. 

And Sidon celebrates with them, because it is all he can do, for now. There is much to attend to, after all, and he cannot leave his people behind just to chase the man who holds his heart. 

It becomes increasingly harder to stay put the more time that passes, though. A day becomes two, then three, then a week. He comes close, more than once, to spiriting away in the middle of the night to try to find him. He struggles not to fall into the dark recesses of his mind which tell him that while Ganon’s evil may be vanquished, Link may also not have survived the war. 

He instead forces himself to daydream all day long of their reunion, of how it may go, and he finds himself embarrassed frequently when his wishes prove way too dramatic for reality. Oh well, oh well! He can hardly be faulted for letting his thoughts get away from him, not when he’s so restless at home! But, there’s nothing he can do, and so he waits, but he has never liked waiting, and that certainly will never change.

* * *

Sidon yawns in his pool, stretching his arms high above his head and flexing his fins as he groans. The sun has barely arrived, a mere tint to the sky above that starts yellow and fades to blue, but he’s already been called to attention. His father has him touring through the markets today, to ask about the state of their affairs and make sure his people are well cared for. It is the part of diplomacy that Sidon likes best, if only because he prefers the company of the common people to figureheads. There is a charm to them that a politician may never fully replicate, and so he looks forward to making his rounds. 

When he finally leaves his pool, the sudden weight to his limbs makes it ten times harder to walk to his wardrobe. He lumbers to it eventually, and then he fishes through his jewelry to find his usual set, naturally tangled with three others. 

He fiddles with the chains to separate them, and wonders what he’ll have for breakfast. He’s sure the cooks have something in mind, and he’ll be pleased to put anything in his rumbling stomach right now. He does one more full body stretch _—twists his shoulders back and forth, rolls his neck, sighs—_ then heads for the throne room. 

Sidon waves to the handful of civilians in the courtyard outside before entering the throne room. His father waits for him, but there is something in his grin which tips Sidon off that something is not quite what it seems. 

“Are you well, father?” he asks, half customary and half legitimately questioning, and King Dorephan chuckles. The sound is a comfort down to Sidon’s bones, something that shakes the walls to the throne room and the whole heart of the domain. It puts him at ease, and he nearly forgets his concern. 

“I’m quite well, son,” he rumbles, “but it seems there’s been a change in plans for the day.” 

Sidon tilts his head, flippers twitching in curiosity as he frowns. “Is there something wrong, father?” 

There is a mighty gleam in the king’s eye. He hums, the playful song of whales in his throat, and then he lifts a weighted hand to gesture outside the throne room, his fins fanning beautifully as he moves. “Not wrong, but something just right, I believe,” he says, and Sidon follows the point of his finger, just for his breath to catch in his throat. 

Just outside, at the mouth of the courtyard and glittering with the crystal, Link stands alone, waiting.

There is a sense of deja vu in Sidon’s blood that reminds him of Vah Ruta’s freeing, the rush of energy that consumed him as he sped to meet the Champion to give thanks. This time, though, there is something else which tints the excitement, something that zings on its way through his chest, and it isn’t until he skids to a halt in front of Link that he remembers to breathe.

As he inhales, he takes in Link’s appearance. His skin is darker, healthier, and his hair well kept. His clothes are in better repair too, and he stands proud. But what matters most to Sidon in this moment, just before he leans down, is that he looks happy. 

Link presents a shimmering grin, laughing at his foolishness, and that’s all the incentive Sidon needs before he lurches forward and encompasses Link entirely in a tight embrace. 

His shoulders quiver, his skin alight at every point of contact between them, and Sidon wonders for only the second time if he might convey himself better with tears. He trembles with happiness, alive and laughing into the crook of Link’s soft neck, and he comes alive as he feels Link’s hands snake their way around his sides and to the small of his back. They are as close as their bodies will allow, and it is only barely enough.

“You’re okay!” Sidon gasps, squeezing tightly, and he feels Link nod into his collar. “Goodness, thank the goddess, my-” 

And then Sidon remembers himself, and he pushes them apart so quickly Link’s arms drag from his sides too slow. He grips him by the shoulders, forcing him to look him in the eye, and Sidon watches a touch of color drain from Link’s face as he recognizes the steely glare Sidon sends him. 

“You couldn’t have sent _one_ letter? _One_ messenger? Made a single visit in all the time it’s been- Link, you-” though he can’t bring himself to finish his scolding, because Link is laughing at him now, and it’s too beautiful to tarnish with petty frustrations. Sidon scoffs, but it melts into a smile to match the laughter, and he pulls Link close again. 

“You are the most stubborn, terrible Hylian I’ve ever met,” he whispers, relishing in the way Link shivers at their closeness, and it feels like the closure of a circle. Ganon has left the lands, and still Link appears, and Sidon feels cared for in a way he’s never really questioned before but finds himself only recognizing now. 

Link cares for him, and Sidon for Link. They create their own circle encapsulated by the warmth of their hug. And when Sidon pulls away for the second time, it is he who moves too slow this time, and before he can blink, he feels the tender press of soft lips to his cheek, a blessing. 

All of Sidon’s fins flare wildly and he shoots backward, frazzled. “I-” he tries, but he doesn’t quite know what to say. Link is looking at him with a hazy glow to his eyes, glittering with the crystal palace, and Sidon is speechless. He releases a shaky breath, an attempt to relieve the overwhelming energy that has seeped into his skin from his cheek to his toes, and closes his eyes. 

“You are so strange I can hardly bear it,” Sidon admits with defeat, earning another silent chuckle from the man who holds his heart. Another flurry of butterflies fills his throat. “But I believe you have a promise to keep,” he says, and he can hardly believe how steady his voice sounds because he feels anything but.

Link tilts his head, and then Sidon watches understanding dawn on him, a cherry flush lighting his skin on fire as his eyes widen and he struggles to regain his wits. Sidon waits patiently, something he’s frankly proud of himself for doing, and Link centers himself. Then he reaches out with his palms up, and Sidon moves before he can think, covering them with his own and wrapping his thumbs over Link’s scarred knuckles. 

“Prince Sidon,” Link says aloud, and once more that raspy, angelic tone overtakes Sidon with how beautiful his name sounds in it. He leans in subconsciously at the same time that Link does. He squeezes Link’s hands, begging him to continue, and Link swallows thickly before looking up, heaven in the whites of his eyes. “May I court you?” 

And Sidon cannot help it—his tail fin wags and his heartbeat surges to something definitely unhealthy, and a grin spreads across his face so quickly the air is a shock to his sensitive fangs. “You will have to ask my father, though I think he would be quite a fool to deny an offer of courtship from the Champion of Hyrule himself,” he murmurs close to Link’s ear.

Link laughs as he shivers, and tugs his hands out of Sidon’s to wrap his arms around Sidon’s neck. “Okay,” he agrees, and it’s a word that Sidon would never have guessed could sound as divine as the goddess’s word, but Link is full of the most unusual surprises, things Sidon hopes he has many years to learn. 

Somewhere deep in his chest, without him knowing, Sidon’s water lily comes to a halt in the center of a crystal clear pool. There it will stay, a quiet thing which will twirl and still in equal measures over the years, but never wilt. 

For Sidon loves Link, so surely that a lily blossom could never truly harness the strength of those feelings, not really. But Link will smile, laugh and hold him, touch and kiss and whisper and sign his love like magic, and the life it conjures will revive that blossom until their last shared breath, everlasting.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading. Please let me know your thoughts in a comment if you have the time, and leave kudos if you enjoyed it!


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